Et tu Monsieur Black?
by Zhemshug
Summary: Revamped! Slightly AU. Following Sirius' death, our boy hero gets a hold of some legal documents and finds out he's been dead for 16 years! Dark Harry.
1. Prologue I: The Death of Harry Potter

  
  
Glitter shimmered along every inch of the grimy floor. The room once occupied by state of the art muggle toys was now devoid of any such mess. Instead, sparkly little pieces scattered here and there. When the sun shone they reflected the bright rays winking at the only Gryffindor boy. Sometimes when exhaustion became too much he'd drop off to sleep, to his nightmares, to his visions, and wake up the next morning to the dancing lights.  
  
They made him happy, despite they're true meaning. He'd finger them fondly and walked above their dazzling dances. Some would be lost when he danced in them, leaving behind drops of crimson in their wake. Imbedded in his body forever, the tiny shards crushed into fine sand would slowly ebb away until there were merely four or five shards left.  
  
And one day Sirius' mirror was simply no more. All that was left behind were those crimson drops and the fifteen year old boy who lost them.  
  
Prologue: Part I  
  
'Tap-tap-tap.'  
  
He rolled over.  
  
'Tap-tap-tap.'  
  
A hiss of "Sirius," late in the night.  
  
'Screeech.'  
  
"Bloody bird." The young man's mutter was followed by a long suffered sigh.  
  
Harry opened his bleary eyes and cast off the threadbare sheet from his sweaty body. Rubbing the sleep out of his burning eyes he threw his legs over the edge of his mattress and opened the window hardly taking into account that his own owl was on its perch and silent until the unwanted interruption.  
  
Gripping the ledge he snapped his window open with a 'bang' enough for a regal tawny owl to slip inside, drop the package in its talons off and slip back out without so much as a glance at the boy it was to deliver to.  
  
"Bloody ministry bird, have as many manners as their owners." Crouching down he picked up the box the dropped. It was fairly light indicating there was probably paper and little else inside.  
  
Glancing quickly to his calendar he affirmed that it was his birthday in a few short hours.  
  
"I stand corrected." Harry mumbled ripping the twine holding the package off and reading the name of the wizarding bank on the front. "Bloody Gringotts bird as cordial as the Goblins."  
  
The loud rustle of parchments that followed immediately afterwards did not wake up the slumbering Dursleys, the boy didn't even check if it did. There were quite a few scrolls inside the package and a sealed folder that would need to be ripped open to read the loose parchments inside. Although the young man had yet to see legal wizarding documents the various ministry, bank, and family emblems on the parchments gave him an inkling as to what they were.  
  
The first scroll was the thickest of them and the seal was the golden emblem of Gringotts at the ends of the rolled up parchment were two carved knobs that usually came with distinguished documents.  
  
Disposing of the silk cord Harry carefully used his thumbs to crack the gold seal noting the glow surrounding the parchment. No doubt some magic that documented the opening of whatever record he was holding.  
  
He fumbled with the parchment and unrolled while clambering up to the window where the lamplight and quarter moon outside helped him read.  
  
"Dear Mr. Harry Potter," He lightly skimmed over the letter. "We are aggrieved to inform you that in the death of Mr.... Sirius Black."  
  
He dropped the letter like a hot coal.  
  
'Sirius. Is this it? Is this final proof that you're gone? The death of any pureblood wizard magically triggers a release of any and all legal documents in their name go to the next of kin.'  
  
"I'm only the half-blood godson." A pitiful whine escaped his lips and desperate eyes roved the floor for the missing glittery shards. "You've left me for good now haven't you?"  
  
This was the final answer. No matter what any one said, Dumbledore, Remus, Moody, Mr. Weasley, accounts from the Department of Mysteries, he hadn't believed them when they said no one ever came out of the veil. This was the final proof. No more wallowing in denial.  
  
He wanted to rave, to cry like a child, to break things. Alas, he had no more spirit to rave, no more tears in his body to cry, and not enough energy to smash anything. He was back at square one, a helpless, jaded, little boy.  
  
A chill went up his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck pricked. The parchment by his feet was calling his attention. From what he gathered it probably contained his godfather's last will and testament. Once again stooping down and picking the text up with trembling fingers he unrolled it and kept reading.  
  
"You are hereby entitled to 12 Grimmauld Place, Fairfax Abbey, Winchester Castle, Black Manor, Chateau de Noir, Chateau de Montreuil, Chateau de Sade, Chateau La Coste, Velmont Heights...235,678,543 galleons, Potter account of 17,879,320 galleons, Godrics Hollow, Potter Manor, and Durange Castle....various personal and family novelties stored in vaults 8765, 330, 4555, and 2901. A total of 253,557,863..."  
  
The room had gone quiet and the parchment had been thrice dropped by the time the raven haired boy left the room to retch in the bathroom down the hall.  
  
After the first few minutes all sounds of retching had stopped and a weary boy placed his head on the cool porcelain lip of the bath tub by the toilet. Breathing deeply and raising his arm to flush the evidence of his regurgitated meal down he closed his eyes.  
  
"Good god, if the Black's were related to, 'the' Marquis de Sade then I no longer have any doubts about their perversions."  
  
Harry walked back into his small bedroom twenty minutes later smelling slightly of vomit and sweat. He didn't dally on Gringotts' accounts on what Sirius had bequeathed to him but rather ripped open the folder that came with it. There he found a stack of at least five or more parchments and a crudely folded muggle style envelope which showed a few hard protrusions coming from whatever object enclosed within.  
  
Leafing through the few parchments he found a bunch certificates amongst them; deaths, births, and marriages. A frown marred his forehead and he squinted to be able to read them in the dark. The first one read:  
  
Le Certificat de Mort Nom: Manon de Sade Femelle Age: 18 La date de mort: 31 Juin, 1980 La cause de mort: en donnant naissance  
  
"She was so young, I didn't know witches died from giving birth in the wizarding world. She must have been a distant cousin of Sirius'. Maybe she was someone from his family that he was actually close to." He put the certificate aside and picked up the next.  
  
Certificate of Marriage Manon de Sade daughter of Countess Mallorie de Sade and Count Adrien de Sade Sirius Black son of Ethelda and Argyle Black Date: December 3, 1979  
  
Their signatures as Manon Black and Sirius Black were below along with a few witnesses.  
  
His eyes couldn't help but reread the piece of parchment. No one had ever told him Sirius had been married. No one had ever said a word. And if he was married at one point then wouldn't all of his possessions go into the hands of the Sades if not the Malfoys or any other close relative?  
  
Through all these questions it finally dawned on him that Manon Black was dead. She had died giving birth to Sirius' child. Was that why Sirius was so desperate to take care of him? Because he wanted a replacement for the son or daughter he didn't get to see grow up?  
  
The next one was a certificate of birth.  
  
Le Certificat De Naissance Date de naissance: 31 Juin, 1980 Nom: Lucien Marlon Black Mâle Père: Sirius Black Mère: Manon de Sade  
  
The scant few primary school French classes that he had began to filter into his memory and the translation, he found came easily. The child's description followed. Black hair, brown eyes, his blood time coincided with Harry's as well.  
  
The child had been born a month before him, the same day his mother died. Questions of why Sirius never told him he had a son and why he was with Harry instead of Lucien popped into his mind.  
  
The next one was a certificate of birth.  
  
Certificate of Birth Name: Harold James Potter Male Father: James Potter Mother: Lillian Potter Date: July 31, 1980  
  
"I never knew my name was Harold. I always thought it was just Harry." He smiled despite the melancholy thoughts that were threatening to take over. If anything came out of this he'd finally learned his name. That at least earned a dry sarcastic chuckle.  
  
He lingered on it for a few moments. Feeling the texture of the aged and yellowed parchment, smelling the long dried ink and tracing the names of his parents he moved on to the next certificate.  
  
Certificate of Death Date of Death: July 31, 1980 Name: Harold James Potter Male Age: 23 minutes  
  
"Merlin..."  
  
TBC...  
  
Pardon my French if it's a bit rusty, don't use it much outside the family and even then it sucks. lol.  
  
Translations: Le Certificat de Mort : Certificate of Death Nom: Name Age: Age Le Certificat de Naissance: Certificate of Birth Juin: June Juillet: July Mere: Mother Pere: Father Sexe: Sex Femelle: Female Male: Male  
  
Well I know its sort of short and confusing but I did my best and I'm trying to build of suspense. First time writer here! :P  
  
Well hope you all liked it and I would appreciate some reviews stating your opinion and whatever else you like.  
  
Thanks so much! BTW..references to Marquis de Sade: He was a sex criminal in France pre- Revolution and pro-Revolution...well you'll have to do independent research for more. 


	2. Prologue II: The Son of a Madman

Prologue: Part II The Son of a Madman  
  
Unlike most days, the morning of July 31st dawned with a dramatic rise in temperature. While English summers did get warm, the nights became cool enough for need of a jumper. At five o'clock in the morning Harry felt like he was in a convection oven with the dial turned all the way up.  
  
The sun's rays hadn't even started to peak out from behind the horizon and he was already panting. Beads of sweat ran down his body and his clothes were completely drenched. The ink on the age old parchments he had passed out on had started to smear and a few words became imprinted on his face.  
  
Despite the heat he still trembled. His body was boiling but his nerves sparked and his limbs jolted shooting tremors through out his whole person. There was a persistent pecking on his window, more like a loud clatter or what sounded like an army of owls assaulting the glass. The noise made his left eye twitch uncontrollably.  
  
'A fever,' he told himself. 'Just a little fever,' though peculiar as it was, he had never been sick. Enough times around muggles assured him that he did indeed possess all the right symptoms.  
  
His body felt incredibly heavy and alien. His eyesight was blurred and he could still taste the vomit on his breath from last night. The overall affect was unpleasant and the only thing he succeeded in doing was turning over onto his back. His leg hit the wall, which was a lot closer than last time he lay in that position.  
  
"Maybe if I lay here they'll eventually leave me alone." He croaked, his words sounded raspy and his voice deeper than usual. What he would have attributed to the sore throat now floated uneasily in his memory.  
  
Harry could have sworn he heard Sirius say those words if he hadn't felt them coming out of his own mouth. It was almost a replay of his third year when his godfather was fresh out of Azkaban and unaccustomed to talking.  
  
He grimaced at burning in his throat wishing for something to sooth it. The kitchen was all the way downstairs though, and with the progress he wouldn't make it by his sweet centennial.  
  
Harry inclined his head slightly in the direction of the rustling noise that his owl was producing. Her blurry outline was hopping frantically from foot to foot in a comical way and the very site of him sent her into a frenzy of distress.  
  
"You'll be in danger of becoming Dudley's next dinner if you don't hush your trap old friend." There it was again. That voice, that maddening voice that was coming out of his mouth again. It was the same husky baritone that brought him so much joy during the past two years.  
  
The voice that served to calm the emptiness in his heart did in no way assuage Hedwig's anxiety. Soon Harry found himself face full of feathers and talons while the owl flapped her wings in his face knocking his glasses off.  
  
"Bloody h—I can see?" Mid curse he paused and let his eyes wander. He looked from one article to the next seeing with perfect clarity and finally settled on the quiet snowy owl. Startled by his behavior, she settled herself back onto her perch and watched him warily.  
  
'Lord what's happening to me? Did I perform some sort of accidental magic or is this a novelty of the dead?' He thought groaning and wincing when he shuffled his frame on his side and made to push himself up. A curtain of long black hair fell into his face and the hand that he moved to push against the floor was unfamiliar to him.  
  
It was darker and larger than his hand but it did feel like his own. He could feel the blood rushing through every vessel or the pinprick of every tiny blonde hair on it. But the hand was not his own. The skin wasn't marred by tiny scars that came from childhood accidents. The fingers were longer and slimmer like a pianist's instead of short and thick-knuckled. The nails were different as well. Previously uneven, bitten down, flimsy nails were groomed and healthy. The lines on the hands too could barely be seen as if they hadn't been used before.  
  
'Sirius used to have these kinds of hands; long and elegant, a trademark of aristocracy.'  
  
"So what am I? What have I become?" There was no doubt in his mind that the hand he was viewing belonged to the body he was occupying. A possession was the first thing that came into mind, seeing as he was supposed to be dead perhaps his spirit was able to move onto another body?  
  
He shook his head. Now 'that' was an absurd thought. He wasn't dead, and he certainly was in possession anyone else's body. Therefore, he was either dreaming or hallucinating. Now if he thought about it from a logical perspective he'd wish for the whole ordeal to be a dream, contained in his mind and never to be released again as soon as he woke up. However, considering that he was running some kind of fever, the possibility of hallucination wasn't far from his mind.  
  
"I am Harry James Potter." He whispered firmly. "I am Harry James Potter, son of Lily and James Potter, godson of Sirius Black, sworn enemy of Lord Voldemort, nephew of Petunia and Vernon Dursley, cousin of Dudley Dursley, best friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I am sixteen years old. I was born July 31, 1980. I am a wizard and I am alive."  
  
No matter how many times he would utter those words, each time they seemed farther from reality, for each time he would picture his certificate of death flashing in his mind. The ministry seal and St. Mungo's seal imprinted at the very bottom of the document leaving no room for denial.  
  
His hip cracked and he winced. His arms were shaking with the effort to push himself off the ground and his breathing was becoming uneven.  
  
"Yesterday I was able to do 200 push-ups and now I can't pick my sorry arse up off the dirty ground."  
  
Despite what he wished, if he didn't get up and let the owls in soon they'd fly back to the owners he'd have the Order on his doorstep. If it could be helped he'd rather they didn't see him like this, or in his fondest dreams, at all. Besides, mingling with the Order meant mingling with Dumbledore, and there was no knowing what he'd do to him if he found out the old man knew about whatever predicament he was in.  
  
While in the position of being on all fours he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He'd never felt a knife going through his gut but strangely he imagined it would feel just like that. The pain froze him in his place. The next few minutes felt like years.  
  
He was once again knocked to the floor and this time an invisible scythe was being driven up his spine. 'Don't scream. Don't wake the muggles.'  
  
He gritted his teeth and stood as still as possible. Every breath of air he inhaled hurt just a little more and every move he made sent the sharp stinging pain further into his body with more ferocity.  
  
He began to feel a tingling along his skin, like tiny pinpricks were poking him. He allowed his eyes to move to one of the unfamiliar arms that held the rest of his body up. There on the lightly tanned flesh black hairs started to sprout exponentially until they resembled fur.  
  
There was a pain in his hands and they began to change shape. They became smaller and thicker until the bones transformed completely and his skin was covered in black fur so thick that he couldn't see his skin. If he ignored the pain he could have considered it the strangest feeling.  
  
His fingernails lengthened and began thick black claws. And while the rest of his body was changing his hands became large wolf-like paws in front of his eyes.  
  
In a matter of minutes Harry Potter would become the creature that haunted cemeteries in children's worst nightmares. He would become the grim.  
  
The hulking form of the grim stood in the smallest bedroom of 4 Privet Drive. Eyes that were once been a jade green became a bright emerald green and the last enchantments that two sets of parents provided the child with melted away.  
  
A magical current created a wind that scattered the parchments on the ground and a particular text situated itself over the others. It was jagged at one edge giving the impression that it had been ripped out of a notebook. If anything it was one of only papers that didn't look official.  
  
August 10, 1980  
  
The news of young Harry's death fell on all of us like a tidal wave. Twenty- three minutes they said. Only twenty-three minutes old. A shame, that's what the medi-witches and wizards called it. It wasn't just a shame; it was a tragedy in all our lives. Lily whose whole pregnancy went smoother than any other woman's I've ever witnessed; not that I've witnessed many mind you; is laying in a catatonic state in St. Mungos. James doesn't know who to grieve for first, for the loss of his son or for the state of his wife. Right now he's so lost that he missed his own son's funeral. It was a small service, Remus, Peter, and I all were there to pay our respects and watch the little casket get lowered into the earth. Sometimes in my worst nightmares I imagine Lucien's little body doing the same. And sometimes in my best dreams I imagine the same thing but this time Manon is at my side. I love Lucien and I would sooner go into the cold ground than watch him do the same, but I loved Manon also.  
  
I don't know who to grieve for either. The loss of my own wife whose corpse the ministry would not let alone until it was cremated due to her 'ailment' hit me hard. Her last words were those of naming our son and giving him every last drop of magic inside her body. I can still see the light in her silver eyes burning away as she left us. Her platinum hair lost its luster and the magic that made her less than human diminish and left her looking like the rest of this lowly race. In ensuring our son's life, she brought about her own death. Her love for him was so great that she would leave me, and I couldn't help but hate the boy. I could not look at the blonde little boy in the medi-witches arms while she tried to hand him to me. Fear and awe was evident in her eyes as she held the child that ought to be classified as a dark creature. His bright eyes so much like Manon's. I was lost and in a fit of anger I did the something completely selfish. I changed him. He was my carbon copy within one second and the nurses were 'obliviated' in two. There was no longer any evidence of his mother and I found myself much like James right now. The only difference being that I had no Prongs to distract me, no Moony or Lily to take care of me, and no Peter to bungle around in the background.  
  
After all, none of them knew what really happened to me in France, but I can see it in their eyes that when I came back they didn't like the new Sirius Black.  
  
I come around every day after work and force Prongs to eat and sleep. Moony comes about too and watches them for hours. Sometimes he stares into space without blinking and the striking similarity between him and Lily becomes remarkably frightening. Peter has only gone to see them once and his presence hasn't brought any comfort.  
  
I can't stay and watch them like this. Lily worries me because I'm afraid she'll meet the same fate Manon did. I can't leave James bereaved of both son and wife. I'm prepared to do something entirely selfish again. I'm prepared to go against every wish Manon would have had. I'm about to forget my son and reintroduce the newly born Harry James Potter. In a day the tombstone of baby Harry will read my son's name and Lucien will no longer be my copy but James'. I can't take care of Lucien by myself no matter how much I love him and I know Lily and James would give him a better life than I ever could.  
  
I've gone and taken every record available on him and I have doled out more 'obliviate' curses in one day than I have in my entire lifetime. His mother's documents in France are within my care, his grandparents know nothing of Sirius Black or Lucien Black and only that their daughter had run away and gotten killed. Counterfeits of everything I've taken have been made. Most importantly, the department of dark creatures has forgotten everything about my wife and me. I've made sure they won't chase my son in the future. A week ago I even went to see the greasy git and under threat acquired the correct potions from him that would last Lucien several years before I have to replace them again in about a decade and a half. Hopefully I'll still be around, and much as I loathe saying, I hope Snape is too.  
  
Tonight I'll have finished everything and by tomorrow my best friends will emerge from the hospital with a child and I will be alone again. If I ever am to die I'll probably have this sent to Albus or, to my utter displeasure, to Snivellus. I don't know what will happen when the enchantments wear off, but I'm taking a guess in saying that he will receive many of the talents Manon and I have had. The potions will no longer shield him from the creatures within us. And he'll hate me for this.  
  
Right now Lucien is giggling and playing in his little crib blissfully unaware of everything that's happened to him. Sometimes I look into his eyes and see accusation before I realize it is my conscience working on me. Other times I see Manon's face despite the enchantments on him. And there are times when I see my cousin Narcissa's face in his own haunting me or Manon's cousin Lucius. What if he follows the Black and Malfoy legacy and becomes a dark wizard, or even worse, a Death Eater? All I know is that the Potter name will be his saving grace and I am prepared to make my sacrifices.  
  
Adieu Lucien Marlon Black and forgive me. Welcome back Harry James Potter and good luck.  
  
-Sirius Black.  
  
Down below the original entry were a few lines of ink that seemed to have been written at a much more recent time.  
  
I see you now. A scar marring James' face, an ancient expression in Lily's eyes, and the awareness of an old man in a young boy's body. I have changed you, I have wronged you but in the end you turned out just like me. Tortured, alone, and grieving. I lie awake at nights sometimes and wonder what it would have been like had I kept you, if I accepted your grandparents' help in raising you. Every time I look at you I feel so proud and at the same time my heart breaks all over again because I know somewhere under there is my and Manon's son. You're beautiful, whether Lucien or Harry. Know that I loved you and still do. Know that I would sacrifice my very being for you. Know that now you are reading this I am able to be with your mother once more. And know I am very proud of you, whatever your choice is.  
  
Before I go however, I must give you one last piece of fatherly advice. Your enchantments will wear off soon if they haven't already. I don't plan on telling you what to do as I have no right. I lost that right the day I gave you to Lily and James. But know this. If you go to Dumbledore he will preserve your innocence for as long as possible and he will protect you. If you stray from Dumbledore you will be free from your chains and from his manipulations. However, no matter what you do you will never be free from the threat of Voldemort as long as you live. He'll find you, I don't know how or when. But if you are Potter enough you will find him before he finds you, if you are de Sade enough you will sneak underneath his defenses and into his good graces, and if you are Black enough then you will beat him at his game and survive.  
  
You will live through this war and despite everything that's been done to manipulate your life you will take it back from others' hands.  
  
Adieu my son.  
  
--Your father Sirius Black March 15, 1994  
  
P.S. You're probably confused and maybe in pain right now. The potions and spells that are wearing off will do that to you. I advise you study up on Animagi because that grim form is quite painful until you change the way of transforming. It's a trait of a breed of Vampires that I unfortunately ran into when I was a child. It's sort of a half vampire half werewolf deal going on. Although you can control the transformation just as long as you do it at least once a month.   
  
Authors Note:::  
  
So sorry that it took me this long to update but school had me going crazy. Now that I'm finished with it I'll be able to update regularly. I know the prologue is sort of long but bear with me. (Maybe I should have just made it the prequel?) Anyways there's one more part to the prologue and its already half way done and chapter 1 will be following shortly. Well have to go now. Please review.  
  
P.S. I'd like to thank my reviewers for boosting my ego just a tad more. I've had to jam a football helmet on my head to keep it from expanding but its still much appreciated. I hope you like the rest of the story as much as you did the first part and maybe even more. Much thanks to::  
  
Dracoz-sexc-hunni: Thanks so much dracoz! Yes, I am a very twisted person therefore that merits a very twisted plot. lol. I would be very wierded out if something like that happened to me.  
  
Adore: Hehe. You are much too kind Adore. Though Goddess Zhemshug doesn't sound too bad does it?  
  
Angelbratt: Don't worry Angelbratt I fully intend to continue. Keep checking for updates. Thanks for the review.  
  
Bookworm2003: Thank you, thank you. I will continue.  
  
Star Lizard: I'm very glad you like my story and your curiosity makes me want to write more and at the same time delay the update to keep you wondering. lol. I know I am quite cruel. I hope you're getting the answer to your questions.  
  
Natural-mystic: Thank you natural! I'm glad you like the fic. Keep checking for updates. (  
  
Lonlyheart: I'm happy to know that you enjoy reading my work. I'll keep updating. 


	3. Prologue III: An Oath To My Blood

Prologue: Part III An Oath To My Blood  
  
If you are Potter enough you will find him before he finds you, if you are De Sade enough you will sneak underneath his defenses and into his good graces, and if you are Black enough then you will beat him at his game and survive.  
  
You will live through this war and despite everything that's been done to manipulate your life you will take it back from others' hands.  
  
Adieu my son.  
  
--Your father Sirius Black March 15, 1994  
  
P.S. You're probably confused and maybe in pain right now. The potions and spells that are wearing off will do that to you. I advise you study up on Animagi because that grim form is quite painful until you change the way of transforming. It's a trait of a breed of Vampires that I unfortunately ran into when I was a child. It's sort of a half vampire half werewolf deal going on. Although you can control the transformation just as long as you do it at least once a month.  
  
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Wide eyes stared at the paper mulling the information over until some sense could be made of it. Not that the letter didn't make sense, it was the mixed emotions. From the casual tempo that it started with to the tragic particulars and then the damn near depressing things until it was casual again at the very end.  
  
'I am the son of a madman.' His body trembled and suddenly dropped to the ground after having gone back to normal. This time when he pushed himself to his knees and hands a curtain of platinum blonde hair fell in front of his face instead of the raven black. The enchantments were finally stripped and he was beginning to grow into himself.  
  
"You bastard." He whispered so softly that even he barely heard it. "You left me. You abandoned me. You didn't want me." A tear slipped down his face and fell down onto the back of his hand. He shuddered and the sob he'd been trying to repress echoed through the room.  
  
It had been years since he cried. And even then those tears were silent and fear filled. They didn't even make it past the small cot he slept on in his little cupboard. The last time he cried was when he was six years old. It was a whimper of a scared and miserable little boy.  
  
But this was a harsh, bitter sound. His breath did not hitch in an attempt to quiet the cry. His voice was not stopped in his throat but sang a pitiful song. It sang of a thousand hardships, of a thousand betrayals. He bawled like a child in a man's body.  
  
He lowered himself onto his elbows and buried his face into his forearms. Hot tears slid down his naked arms and with one fist he banged hard on the wooden floor while he howled his sorrows.  
  
He grieved for the first and last time. He grieved for the mother he lost at birth, for the father that he lost the minute he signed him over to his new parents. He grieved for Lily and James Potter. He grieved for Sirius' death. He grieved for the wasted years. But most of all he grieved for Harry Potter, who had been dead for a long time and was now dead to him.  
  
Whoever said crying was a weakness was an idiot, because at that moment it felt like bliss. The release of pent up emotions would add years to his life expectancy. His throat felt raw and his skin was itching from the saline in his tears but in his whole life he never felt better than he did then.  
  
It was twenty minutes later that he calmed down. He lay bereft of clothing that had been tattered in his transformation and clutching the last thing he received from Sirius.  
  
He could feel that his eyes were swollen and he could no longer breathe through his nose. Every breath that he took in stung and he was exhausted.  
  
"I trusted you." He said just as quietly as the first time he spoke after reading the passage Sirius left him. "I trusted you above everyone. I loved you more than life itself. You betrayed my trust and my love." His voice was hallowed and empty. Nothing could sooth his pain.  
  
A sudden flash of anger burned in his eyes and his voice took on a raspy quality when he yelled out, "You left me alone to be with your precious MANON!" His mother's name was spat out like it was a plague. "Fuck you SIRIUS BLACK! FUCK YOU!" His eyes flashed silver in his anger and shone in the dark of night. "YOU'RE NO FATHER OF MINE!"  
  
But the anger that fueled that outburst was soon spent just like the rest of his energy.  
  
However, he understood his Sirius' choice perfectly.  
  
After all, who wants to take care of a worthless freak?  
  
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"Potter wake up! Last night's racket was the last draw!" The nasal voice of the blonde ostrich-like woman on the other side of the door rang through the room. Her poundings for the last fifteen minutes were ignored and the occupant she was shouting for was no longer inside.  
  
"You stupid boy! Just you wait until Vernon hears of this!" Petunia screeched again through the door giving it an extra thump for good measure with the foot of her shoe and sliding the newly installed lock on the outside closed. If one were to have sharp enough hearing they could make out her slipper clad footsteps heading down the hall toward the stairs until she finally descended into the kitchen and made breakfast.  
  
'No, I won't wait anymore, this time you will.' The words echoed. These few words were the answer to his every problem. They were the solution to his every obstacle. They played over and over again in his mind. Constant thoughts of revenge and of hate brewing behind his eyes.  
  
They thought that Malfoys could spite, that Blacks were deranged, that de Sades were perverse, that the Dursleys could hate. But none of them knew true hatred like he did. The utter revulsion, the complete loathing that burned inside of him could not be matched by any witch, wizard, muggle, squib, animal, or dark creature.  
  
It was time he became the predator instead of the prey.  
  
He could feel it coursing through his body. The need to rip, the urge to corrupt, and the compulsion to conquer; it was all there. Brewing, dancing, and twirling in his veins and pumping through his little black heart just like Sirius thought it would. It was always there guarded by the expectations of society and by the good name of Potter.  
  
This was a type of lust he had never felt before.  
  
This was a new breed of monster that the world had created, a cunning beast in the guise of a young man.  
  
'A wolf in sheep's clothing.'  
  
He hadn't moved an inch since he fell silent early that morning. For hours his body was as still as a corpse in rigor mortis. Last night's screaming had only fueled the Dursleys' anger and wore away the thing veil of patience they kept in order to save their own hides. He endured the pain of the last few hours quietly as his body finished doing the growing it was supposed to have accomplished in the past 16 years. When the magic had run its course the Dursleys would begin to run theirs. Now his own patience was wearing away.  
  
It was time to rise again. It was time for Lucien Black to take his place in the world.  
  
He was tired of being a puppet. He was tired of running and hiding. He craved the life that had been so unfairly stolen from him. And now that the muggles he grew up with had reestablished their foolish bravery. He would break it and break them before they had a chance to put him back in the cupboard; whether it was the real thing or the proverbial one.  
  
Slowly he began inching himself into a position where he was on his hands and knees. The aching in his body made his muscles spasm but he continued with resolve. The sunlight coming through the window cast a glint on something to his right that reminded him of the snitch. It was a penknife, sharp as a surgeon's knife. He reached over and pawed it.  
  
It was time to seal his oath.  
  
"I am Potter enough." The blonde spat. "I am de Sade enough." He kept pushing himself up off the floor with a new resolve. "I am certainly Black enough." He finished grasping the penknife that sat on his small desk and opened his other hand drawing a line across his palm. Thick crimson blood welled up and dripped down onto the floor where it began eating through the wood. Like a corrosive potion it dissolved the floorboards where it landed and dried up. His bitter emotions stimulated its acidity.  
  
"By my blood I will have my life back and I will have my vengeance!" He hissed clenching his fist hard in order to squeeze more blood out.  
  
"My name is Lucien Black. My family abandoned me for the afterlife. Voldemort is the name of my enemy. Dumbledore is the name of my obstacle. Vengeance is my goal and my first victims will be a muggle family who had the gall to treat a wizard like a common house elf."  
  
He stood shakily like a newborn colt on unsteady legs and moved toward the door where he leaned up against it. He breathed deeply while willing away the dizzy feeling that overcame him. When the room stopped spinning he tried to open the door forgetting for a moment that it was locked from the outside.  
  
Dropping the penknife and gripping the handle with both hands he leaned backwards and placed a foot on the door frame where he began pushing against it and pulling on the handle. The lock didn't break and the door didn't move. Before long he was out of breath and his quivering muscles were beyond exhausted.  
  
Falling to a heap on the floor the boy crawled across the room to lean against the wall opposite the door. He had one last hope of getting out of the room without using magic. He stood again, his legs weaker than before. Determined to do the deed he crouched, sprung forward and took one great leap before his right shoulder encountered the door.  
  
A crack of wood, a pain filled howl, and a body hitting the floor were the consequences in his second attempt at freedom. Tears welled up in his eyes and his gripped his shoulder tightly.  
  
"Bloody hell!" He hissed sure that he most likely fractured something. "You couldn't have said anything useful could you Sirius? No nice little 'P.P.S. You don't possess super strength'!"  
  
Although he could not break the door down he was heavy enough to make some kind of impact. A deep groove where flesh met wood and a slit down the middle of the door was plainly visible as well as some damaging along the door frame.  
  
"One more try can't hurt, can it?" He wondered wearily.  
  
It took another try on the door to crash through the wood. He lay in the wreckage for a few moments recovering from the painful impact. Extracting himself from the wooden splinters he kicked all the fragments into the room and did his best to damage the door frame from the outside to make it look like the room was broken in from the outside.  
  
By the time he was done the commotion he made had drawn Petunia up the stairs. The air had become hushed. Not a sound was heard between the two of them except the frantic heart beat of the older woman. It began to pick up faster and faster. It felt like a drum beating loudly in his mind.  
  
And as he moved forward the earth stopped moving and she remained frozen in place. Her pale eyes were staring at him in wonder. Not even the dust rose and fell, the world was awaiting his next move.  
  
It somehow seemed to know that Lucien Black was going to commit a mortal crime. It would mark his birth and his eventual death.  
  
He suddenly stood behind the older woman delightfully aware that he now towered over her. His nose was so overloaded with different scents that is was hard to pick out hers in the mix. But what he could pick up was the pheromones and hormones in the air. And when he wrapped his arms around her middle time started again and she let out a large breath.  
  
Her blue eyes were wild now searching straight ahead of her where the platinum haired stranger used to stand only a second ago. The arms around her were slimmer than her husband's, longer, and stronger. The body behind her was as well, and long blonde hair shades lighter than hers like singular strands of white gold spilled over her shoulders as someone's head bent forward.  
  
"W-who a-are you?" She breathed raggedly clutching at the arms around her waist and digging her fingernails into the skin that she came in contact with.  
  
Lucien bent his head further and she was able to see as she angled her head backwards that the emerald green eyes that stared at her only moments earlier from across the hall melted into quicksilver and the black pupils lightened to a periwinkle and began to mix into the quicksilver in a swirl until they disappeared.  
  
The colors mesmerized her and the ice cold of the body against hers slowed the speed of her brain activity until she had to fight to keep breathing.  
  
"Who am I?" The man breathed against her neck sending shivers down her body. He inhaled making a show of taking in her scent. "It saddens me that you can't remember the boy that you so graciously raised under your roof." His deep thick French accent transforming into a higher pitched Oxford British she found familiar.  
  
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when his arms tightened around her torso and squeezed her harder lifting her up against his body until her toes no longer reached the ground. Her lungs pumped desperately for a breath of air and she started seeing spots. She clawed harder against his arms but didn't manage to draw any blood.  
  
"Think Petunia. Who am I? Who has occupied your little cupboard under the stairs like an animal for ten years? Think hard Petunia, no matter how stupid you are even you know this. Your life depends on this answer."  
  
He squeezed harder and her mouth opened wide as her body convulsed giving her the impression of a fish on dry land.  
  
"Time is running out Mrs. Durlsey. Hurry." He whispered listening to her increased heart rate.  
  
"P-p-p" She gasped opening and closing her mouth in a desperate attempt for air.  
  
Lucien leaned closer to her mouth and squeezed her midsection harder. "What was that?" A small trickle of blood came up her throat and spilled down her chin.  
  
"P-p-p-po" Tears ran down her cheeks and snot began dripping from her nose. A few drops fell on his arm and he shuddered in disgust. The stench of fear coming off of her was so palpable that he could feed on it.  
  
"I can't understand you mon cherie." Her ribs started creaking from the pressure and her ears began to bleed.  
  
"P-p" Her desperate attempts to get out of his arms began to weaken and her body began getting slack. Her heartbeat slowed and when she was on the very verge of losing consciousness Lucien let go of her. Gently leaning her body against his and tilting her head back so that air would be easier to attain.  
  
"P-p-pot" She attempted gasping for precious oxygen and clutching onto his naked shoulders.  
  
"No." He whispered to her. He turned her around to face him and wrapped an arm securely around her waist. He brought his other hand it up to her forehead and began tracing a jagged pattern into her skin with his index finger. He did a partial transformation and his fingernail suddenly lengthened into a thick black claw. Lucien continued making the pattern until his claw had retracted and his fingers were crimson and covered in blood.  
  
Petunia whimpered weakly and let out a dry sob when his hand went to her throat and began applying pressure.  
  
"You never played games with me Aunt Petunia. I think I'll play one game with you for old time's sake just to show you what fun you missed. This game is called 'Jeu du Foulard'."  
  
Slowly he began to squeeze the slender column that was her neck. Her eyes became wide in fear again.  
  
"Are you enjoying yourself Aunt?" He said his eyes moving from hers to her bleeding forehead where his tongue darted out unexpected and lapped at it out of curiosity.  
  
"No matter how sour I might think you are your blood is surprisingly sweet. Perhaps I should bleed you to death?" He licked her forehead again relishing the coppery liquid.  
  
"Please." She choked out feeling light headed from lack of air.  
  
"It's a little late to beg Petunia." He squeezed harder and once again she was on the verge of blacking out but he released his hold on her neck and her heart started pumping faster again.  
  
"Please don't kill me." Her tear filled eyes were starting to fill with her blood. It dripped over her brows and filled her vision with the color red.  
  
"Why shouldn't I kill you? Give me one good reason Aunt."  
  
She stilled and finally said two words that would have stopped him had he done this before the knowledge of his true heritage. "Your mother--."  
  
"Is rolling in her grave." He finished her sentence and began squeezing her neck again. "Because of you." A single tear slid down his pale cheek. "All you had to do was love me! WHY COULDN'T YOU LOVE ME?!" He snarled it in her face making her cry out in alarm.  
  
"Say you love me." He hissed. His anger causing him to tighten his grip on her body. He was strangling the very air out of her without even knowing it. "Say it!"  
  
She was so very afraid. Her body was trembling and there was urine running down her leg. She stunk of terror. But she was so very beautiful at the same time. Her frailty appealed to him like nothing else ever had.  
  
Something akin to pleasure began to cloud his mind. The scent of fresh blood as well as the heightened smell of fear overloaded his nose. Her thrashing body rubbing against his and the wild look in her eyes pressed him to squeeze harder and pull her tighter against him.  
  
He removed the hand from her neck but kept applying pressure to her waist. He ripped at her bathrobe and undergarments in a lustful haze. His fingernails ripped the skin on her hips to ribbons and dug into her bone as he violated her and kept thrusting into her with vigor.  
  
"Maybe you love me after all Aunt." He was beside himself with pleasure and his eyes were rolling back just as hers were but for a different reason. Soon he saw fireworks behind his eyelids and his excitement died down.  
  
So wrapped in his pleasure was he that Lucien didn't know Petunia was dead until the drums in his head had died down and her body was even colder than his.  
  
He let her drop to the ground and stepped away from the rapidly cooling corpse. Her blood and his semen mixed together on the second floor of Privet Drive.  
  
"One down two to go."  
  
He was already getting hard again with the anticipation.  
  
He opened a door closest to him where the occupant inside was just getting dressed in his work clothes. Since none of the noise from the hallway made it through the door the man inside hadn't expected anything amiss in his household. Beady eyes stared at the beautiful stranger in the doorway half in fear and half in lust.  
  
He licked his lips and sent the man his most charming smile. "Hello Vernon. Would you like to play with me?"  
  
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =  
  
Several hours later found Lucien sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee and neatly piling muggle currency into a stack after having counted it. Three mutilated bodies were propped up in their usual spots at the table keeping him silent company. The stench of death filling the house and trails of blood painting the floors and the walls a rusty red. It was his first true masterpiece.  
  
Lucien having found nothing suitable to wear found a beige overcoat obviously made for a man a foot shorter than him and four times his girth. There were house slippers on his feet that left part of his heels unprotected and large sunglasses over his eyes to hide the swirling colors.  
  
It was either that or Dudley's tent-like school uniform that made him closely resemble a clown.  
  
He stood after having finished his breakfast and hid the money in one of the pockets of the coat before heading back up to the second floor and the smallest bedroom. Once there he collected all of the papers he received from Gringotts, his invisibility cloak which he hid inside his coat, and his wand.  
  
He opened the bedroom window and stuck his arm out, pointing the wand heaven wards and spoke the spell he'd seen done in his dreams many times.  
  
"Mosmorde!"  
  
A green skull hovered over the house of Privet Drive during high noon on July 31st and if anyone had been around they would have seen the back door open and close by an invisible hand and the shuffling of footsteps moving two blocks down where the Knight Bus appeared and moments later disappeared.  
  
An invisible stranger boarded and the bus would be found later that night.  
  
TBC.....  
  
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = AUTHOR'S NOTE  
  
Finally the third and last part of the prologue has been completed! Bwahaha. Good or bad? I already told you guys that Harry would be evil and sick and all things bad. Didn't I?  
  
Well if I didn't, my bad. Hehe. Please don't kill me because I took so long to update. I already have very good ideas for the next chapter and it seems I've found my muse. So it won't be far behind. I solemnly swear on my precious coffee.  
  
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!! (Only if you want to, no pressure) I just won't post the next chapter until I'm satisfied with the reviews! :P I want to thank all of my reviewers, you guys really encourage me to write more, sometimes I'm just a bit slow. Oh and special thanks to Zachiliam for making corrections on my poor French. I've reposted both of the first chapters with minor corrections.  
  
Kateri1: Thank Kateri. I try.  
  
TheMadHatter33: Suck isn't even a strong enough word for it Mad. And apparently Harry agrees with you. Keep watching for updates!  
  
Selua: Yeah I thought it would be interesting to connect him with someone realistic because I noticed that most people like to relate him to one of the founders and while that's cool I just wanted to do something new.  
  
Alynna Lis Eachann: Thankies Alynna! I personally love Sirius-is-Harry's- father fics. Glad you do too.  
  
S1: Whoa S1! Down S1! You almost knocked me over with your enthusiasm. lol. I'm glad you like.  
  
Captain Oblivious: Hehe. don't worry about being inarticulate. I find myself like that early in the mornings as well, or just very sarcastic. Though I don't know how sarcastic you can get when grunting. Basically I'm useless without my coffee. I'm just glad you liked the story.  
  
Lady of the Dawn: blushes Aww. That's so sweet. No one's called my writing beautiful before. Bwahaha in your face English Teacher! Honestly my teachers think I'm hopeless.  
  
Zachiliam: Thanks so much for pointing me in the right direction with the French. Unfortunately I can't put the hyphen in between Et and tu though. Believe me I've tried. Oh and you know I didn't notice that my settings didn't accept anonymous reviewers! Thanks for pointing that out too. Thanks for all the help! I'll talk to you later!  
  
MarsIsBrightTonight: bows Thank you very much. Your support means a lot. And I'll keep the super powers thing in mind. Though to tell you the truth I didn't plan on making him invincible, just determined. I'm glad you like it so far.  
  
DarkJamAB: turns her back while DarkJamAB cries discreetly passes a tissue to Dark Well my friend, I'm glad that you liked the story. I really like to bring the readers into the story and try to make them feel some of the characters emotions. I'd say it worked quite well. Haha. I guess I should update soon so you won't stab me with a butter knife.  
  
Mr. Happy Java Man: You have a good point about the fact that there's no proof that Sirius is dead but I can't make any promises. Keep checking the updates and maybe you'll be in luck one day. lol. I'm really glad you liked the story, I love any kind of story where Sirius is related or interacts with Harry.  
  
Natural-mystic: I'm glad you like! And I'll update soon!  
  
Star Lizard: Thank you for reviewing again! Yes Harry has certainly changed. How do you like Lucien so far? Good, bad, so-so?  
  
Lonlyheart: Thanks lonly I'll try not to be long in updating the next chapter. 


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